


living in my memory, living in my mouth (even in the four fucking walls of my house)

by edbloom, ryukyubat (edbloom)



Series: here's to teenage memories [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Rejection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edbloom/pseuds/edbloom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edbloom/pseuds/ryukyubat
Summary: Rule #1 in Renjun's Guide on Surviving being Nonbinary in High School:"You aren't obligated to come out to anybody, not to your friends or your family. Any coming out to be done is done on your own accord. The only person who needs to know is the person you're dating, or the person you want to date."Renjun was absolutely fine with the prospects of flying through high school without coming out. Cue Donghyuck Lee.—You said answer honestly, and I went with option BI lost you and you lost meI can't shake it off
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Series: here's to teenage memories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036170
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	living in my memory, living in my mouth (even in the four fucking walls of my house)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! it is i! your local agender!
> 
> this is just self projection again. sorry. oops.
> 
> enjoy tho!
> 
> inspired by and title from orla gartland's did it to myself
> 
> \- ely

Their day starts with their alarm clock, blaring and startling.

It takes a minute but after awhile, a groggy hand emerges from the mess of blankets and pillows, feeling for their phone under everything. A sleepy yet triumphant " _fuck_ " is grumbled against the pillow before the offensive sound suddenly lulls. The air in the room turning quiet.

Renjun's head pops up from below the blankets a moment later. Bleary eyes try to open against the blinding rays of the morning sun. It's a losing battle, they know but _hey_ , at least they tried. Groaning when they can't keep their eyes open anymore, Renjun flops back onto their bed—tired eyes focusing on the ceiling as fatigue settles in to every crevice of their bones, embedding itself there like cement in cracks. They scan the tear drop rainbows shining on their ceiling, a soft fondness blooms in their chest. The tiny rainbows were a product of the prisms hung on their windowsill, prisms hung by—

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Renjun swears, slamming their head on their pillow, eyes closing shut. The soft fondness, a wilting flower in their chest—short lived like a snowdrop. In its wake, an ugly messy type of misery settles in, dripping—slow and lazy. Renjun badly wants to ignore how it feels a lot like regret.

"Renjun," their mom yells from downstairs. "You better be awake!"

With a cough, they respond, "I am!"

"Good! Donghyuck's going to be here in 10 minutes!"

_No, he isn't_.

But Renjun bites their tongue with a wince. Their mother doesn't need to know about the drama going on their life.

They don't respond. Renjun doesn't know how—so they keep quiet. They keep their mouth shut as they shower, they keep their mouth shut as they got dressed, they keep their mouth shut as they shoved their books and binders into their Jansport.

Renjun keeps their mouth shut—call it running away from their problems but Renjun calls it not letting the bad things in life control them, even when the bad things in life sound a lot like their phone's ringtone that's currently wafting through their room right now.

Orla Gartland's Did It To Myself leaves the most bitter taste in their mouth, even after brushing their teeth. Renjun stalks to the bed, lips in a tight line. They feel like they're going to throw up. Declining the call, not even glancing at the caller, Renjun doesn't need to—they already know.

(How could they not? The 15 missed calls is enough of a reminder.)

They bound the stairs, phone in their pocket, backpack slung over their shoulder, sweater draped in their arm. Feet hop down the stairs, mind desperately trying to ignore the fact that there wasn't going to be a voice to greet them downstairs with a well placed jab at their morning disposition. Renjun enters the kitchen, untangling the earphones in their hands with practiced nonchalance as they try to maneuver around the island and chairs to say goodbye to their mother.

"Mom—"

"Oh! Donghyuck's not coming?" Their mother asks, turning away from the stove. She eyes them carefully. Renjun prays she doesn't notice the eye bags.

"No," they answer, a bit too tersely so they amend it with a quick—"he's busy."

"Theatre things," they add, nervously chuckling when their mom goes back to eyeing them. The bounce of Renjun's feet is getting more erratic and the anxiety in their chest is almost close to suffocating. The movement creates worry in her eyes and Renjun needs to bail right now because they will not be _explainingtotheirmotherhow_ —

"I have to go," they rush, quickly leaving a peck on their mom's cheek before racing out the kitchen. Breathing heavily and lips pressed to a tight grimace, they grab their bike by the front door and rush out of the house. Hands are sweaty when they grip on the handles and Renjun is desperately trying not to succumb into the approaching panic attack. Renjun can feel their legs shake as they straddle the bike. They won't stop _fucking_ shaking and—

_I woke up to an empty bed—_

"Fuck!" They yelled out, hitting the handle of the bike, frustrated and on the verge of crying, before fishing out their phone and accepting the call.

"Leave me alone." Terse and as unforgiving as metal, Renjun hangs up after that, shoving their phone back into their pocket before pedaling their way to school.

Renjun presses down on the brakes with too much pressure, body still tense from the morning and still too tired from yesterday. They get off the bike, hands automatically reaching for the pocket of their backpack. Crouching down near the wheels, Renjun sighs before fishing out the lock.

Idle hands wrap the wheel and around the stand—monotonous, slow—locking the bike in place. They make a move to stand up when they hear the sound of a voice that cements them into place.

"I don't fucking know what I said to _him_ , Jeno." _Donghyuck_.

"Can't you recall anything, Hyuck? I mean, you must've told Renjun—" _heart racing, breathing rapid,_ fuck, that's their name— "something for _him_ to ignore you. Renjun isn't the type to do that unprovoked."

"I know. I—"

_Clammy hands. clammy fingers. heartracing,breathingrapid—_

"What did you do, Hyuck?"

Quiet. So so quiet.

(Even the rushing of blood in their ears.)

"I confessed to _him._ "

_Arrows to their bloody,_ bloody _heart._

"Oh, Hyuck."

"But Jeno, that isn't even the problem because _fuck_! You confessed to _him_. _He_ didn't fucking ignore you like _he's_ doing to me."

_Different. Hyuck's different_. Traitorous thoughts.

"Why the hell is _he_ doing this?"

_Ilikeyou_

_Arrows to a bloody,_ bloody _heart_.

Quiet. Again.

_heartracing,breathingrapid,sweatypalms,achingheart—_

"Come on, Hyuck. Classes will start soon."

Footsteps. Light and heavy. Retreating—back and back.

Until quiet. Until the only thing left is the bustle of the street outside.

"Fuck," Renjun whispers to the gravel on the ground.

They can't do it.

Hands scramble to unlock their bike, tugging at the lock relentlessly until it gives. Rushing, _rushing, standing up_ before straddling their bike again. Lock still in their hands as they grip on the handles, pedaling to nowhere and somewhere. Renjun decides away from this place is enough.

Maybe if they pedal away fast enough, they won't have to face the truth they can't seem to peel away from their mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> twt:  
>  [@wzcle](http:/twitter.com/wzcle)
> 
> cc:  
>  [@junle](http:/curiouscat.me/junle)


End file.
